


The Puyos Called Home

by laurelofthestory



Category: Puyo Puyo (Video Games)
Genre: Ficlet Collection, Prompt Fill, Puyo Week 2020
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:27:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25700578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurelofthestory/pseuds/laurelofthestory
Summary: In a world as unabashedlybonkersas this one, it's good to take comfort in the little things.[Collection of short fics forPuyo Week 2020.]
Relationships: Klug & Amitie (Puyo Puyo), Klug/Sig (Puyo Puyo), Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 3
Kudos: 32





	1. Checking In

**Author's Note:**

> Well, first time doing...anything like this, really, these things don't tend to happen in the fandoms I'm in. I was meaning to get another Puyo fic finished and posted before this, but life happened, so I guess this is my introduction here.
> 
> Thanks to the friends who've dragged me into this hole. You're terrible.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klug’s still recovering from the mess he made at the ruins, but it seems some people are still looking out for him, even in spite of, well...himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Favorite Character - Klug
> 
> No, Amitie isn't my second favorite, though I love her dearly. This is just the scene that wanted to get written.

Klug’s pretty sure he’s going to go insane, and it’s only been three days since the incident at the ruins.

He’d spent the first few minutes after said incident insisting to Amitie and Lemres that he was fine and could absolutely walk back to town _without_ their assistance, thank you very much--after all, this whole thing had been _entirely_ by design, and thus he hadn’t been particularly bothered by the whole ordeal. Approximately two minutes after _that,_ he’d dropped like a sack of potatoes just outside the ruins, as his body suddenly realized it was suffering a bad case of mana exhaustion. Lemres had taken him to the infirmary, where he’d spent the rest of the evening recovering before being sent home--and _then_ his usually rather passive grandmother had started fussing over him, insisting on taking care of him even if he refused to tell her what _exactly_ had happened. Part of him was rather embarrassed to admit that he _did_ like the attention, but the fact that his grandmother now refused to let him leave the house until he went back to school next week combined with the fact that Klug knew the whole thing had been his own fault just leaves him miserable.

It’s true that Klug tends to spend a lot of his time inside reading, but now that he doesn’t even have the _choice_ to go outside, staying put is _unbearable_. There’s only so many of his own books he can read, sketches and puzzles he can work on, before he starts to lose his mind. It’s the same sort of aimless nothing as summer break, but _worse._

And all the while, knowing his classmates have definitely noticed his uncharacteristic absence and are probably _theorizing_ about it practically makes him _writhe._

He’d stayed in his pajamas for the first couple of days, before deciding that only made him feel more disgusting and lazy. So today he’d decided to change into his shirt and slacks at least, not bothering with the jacket or the _contraption_ that is his tie for the moment. He lies on his bed propped up on a couple of pillows, a book on the history of evocation in his hands, face scrunched up in concentration as he _desperately_ tries to focus on the words and _not_ let his gaze drift to the window to check the time until sundown, or to the closet to think about what’s currently stuffed in there under several layers of outgrown shirts. He can’t stop himself from wiggling his toes in his socks or tapping the side of the book with his finger in some aimless rhythm, he wants to pace around, none of the words are sticking, and it’s only making him more frustrated.

He’s so focused on _trying_ to focus that he doesn’t notice the unfamiliar footsteps coming down the hall to his room--until his door suddenly bursts open with the force of a typhoon.

“Heyo!”

Klug _shrieks_ in an extremely high-pitched and extremely un-dignified manner, flinching so hard he bounces a bit off of his bed as he slams the book shut and holds it over his head as if to shield him. His glasses fall askew on his nose, leaving him staring wide-eyed and only half-seeing at the visitor in his doorway.

Thankfully, he doesn’t need to _see_ the visitor clearly to know who it is--the blob of red on her head is indication enough. “A-Amitie?” Alarm quickly gives way to irritation, as he practically _throws_ the book onto his bed and sits up straight, readjusting his glasses. Indeed, his classmate is standing at the door, looking a little wide-eyed from his outburst and holding a glass container in both arms, a few sheets of paper sitting on top of it.

“...Gee, maybe I should’ve knocked.”

“How did you get in here?!”

Amitie’s indomitable smile quickly returns. “Oh! Your grandma let me in! She’s a nice lady.” As she’s wont to do, her gaze starts to drift around his room. “Wow, your room’s _really_ clean.”

It’s only immaculate due to the constant efforts of a neurotic teenager and a book that’s almost equally neurotic when it comes to cleaning, but Klug deems that unimportant in the face of the elephant with the Puyo hat in the room. “What do you _want,_ ” he snaps.

“Oh, right.” Amitie steps inside, moving to set the papers on his desk. “Lemres had to go back to his school today. He said he was sorry he couldn’t see you again before he left, but wanted me to give you these.” She holds out the glass container for him, and he takes it to get a better look. Sure enough, inside is a set of what he assumes are chocolate chip cookies. His face gets just a bit warm. “And Ms. Accord wanted me to give you the notes for this week,” Amitie continues, seemingly oblivious to his internal crisis as she taps the stack of papers. “There’s a couple worksheets in there too, since she said you were probably going crazy stuck here. Well, she didn’t _exactly_ say it like that, but it was close enough.”

It takes all of Klug’s willpower to set the cookies aside for the moment--he knows that if he starts on them he probably isn’t going to be able to stop, and the last thing he needs is for Amitie to see him probably shed a tear over sweets. “Thank you,” he says, with a curt nod. “Is that all?”

Amitie frowns, rocking back and forth on her feet. “Well, I did wanna see how you were doing. People are saying you went to the hospital.”

Klug _cringes._ “And I’m sure they all know exactly _why?_ ” He gives her an accusatory look.

Amitie looks genuinely offended, taking a step back. “What? No! My lips are sealed, for real!”

Maybe that was too harsh. Klug isn’t particularly good at being anything else. Maybe it should bother him more than he does. Maybe he should work harder on it. But he’s got so much _else_ to work hard on, social interaction is low on his list of priorities. It’s not like it’s going to matter very much once he’s successful--people will like him _then._

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What about Raffina?”

Amitie twirls one of her bracelets with a nervous chuckle. “ _Weeeeeeeell_...you know how that rock she got makes your complexion really nice? Apparently that only lasts...about two days. So Raffina’s kind of sort of _really mad_ and no one’s wanted to talk to her since yesterday ‘cause it looks like she might deck the first person she catches looking her in the face.”

“Serves her right.”

“ _Klug,_ that’s mean.”

He waves off the comment. “And Sig?”

Amitie cocks a brow in confusion--he’s willing to bet Sig hadn’t even mentioned being there. “Sig’s been kinda spacey. I mean, more than usual. I think something’s bothering him, and his arm’s acting up.”

Klug presses his lips together. It’s not like he’s upset about Sig leaving him or anything, he barely knows the boy. That’d be silly of him, and imply he cares too much. It’s just that he’d _expected_ that sort of reaction from _Raffina,_ not Sig. At least now he knows he can’t trust Sig with anything that really _matters._

(Though the pieces of a puzzle he knows he can’t solve grate at the back of his mind. _What_ had they _meant_ when they’d spoken to Sig? Why had they been so _interested_ in him? It’s not like he can just _ask_ them--he can’t trust them at all anymore, and he doubts they’ll give him a straight answer anyway.)

“So where’s that book, anyway?” Amitie shakes him out of his thoughts. Klug idly takes the pocketwatch that’d usually be on his chest off of his bedside table, fiddling with it to give his hands something to do. Normally, that role would be taken by the book itself, but...well. His gaze flicks to the closet before he can stop it. Amitie nods sagely. “You put it in time-out.”

“I did not _‘put it in time out.’_ I just don’t feel like dealing with it at the moment.”

“Because of what it did?”

“The whole thing was _entirely_ under control, I assure you.” He winces at the reproachful look Amitie gives him--as much as he wants to say otherwise, Amitie’s _oblivious_ , not _stupid._ He glances away, running his fingers along the outside of the watch. “Why does any of this matter to you?”

When he looks back at her, her brows have furrowed over her eyes. It’s a bit of an odd look for her. “You’re kind of a jerk sometimes, but you’re still my friend. I wanna make sure you’re gonna be okay.” The brief shadow over her face quickly clears, and she bounces on the balls of her feet. “I know what’ll cheer you up! You wanna play Puyo?”

“ _In my room?_ ”

Amitie glances around, and her face falls. His room isn’t _small,_ but it’s also not particularly _large,_ and it’s definitely too clean to deal with a mountain of nuisance, no matter whose fault said nuisance is. “You’re right. Okay, I owe you a match when you get back to school, then!”

Thankfully, this is back in familiar territory. Klug scoffs. “You realize you’re just going to lose again, right?”

“Get real! I’ve been practicing!” Amitie fist-pumps the air, then drops her hands to her hips. “Soooo...see you at school next week?”

“Of course.” Klug nods, sitting up straighter and adjusting his glasses again. “As your honor student, I would be remiss if I was away for longer than I have to be.”

“Aww, you miss us?”

“What-- _re_ -miss _._ Negligent.”

“Uh-huh, sure!” Amitie bobs her head, though he’s pretty sure the original point of the sentence has already gone sailing clean over her hat. “Anyway, feel better, see you, tell your grandma I think she’s nice! Bye!” 

She offers him an enthusiastic wave, before turning to leave. She gets a bit down the hall before he hears her let out a little ‘oh’, come back, and gently close his door behind her.

As soon as he hears her footsteps get far enough away that he’s pretty sure she won’t run back to add something she forgot, Klug lets himself drop into the pillows with a loud groan. Amitie is...a confusing one. Klug’s well aware that most of his classmates don’t like him, and that’s fine, because he doesn’t _need_ to be _liked,_ he _needs_ to be the _best._ But Amitie is so stubbornly _nice._ It perplexes him.

He raises his head and reaches into the container to grab a cookie to nibble on, careful not to leave crumbs. The treat is as spectacular as expected from Lemres, of course, and Klug is still hung up on the fact that Lemres _knows he exists_ now, even if it had been in the worst situation possible.

And that just brings him back to the real problem he's been staunchly avoiding thinking about. He turns his head to peer at the closet out of the corner of his eye. He’s stuck between a rock and a hard place--that _thing_ is still his grimoire and magical focus, even if he has to admit he doesn’t know _nearly_ as much about it as he’d like. It hasn’t even given him a _name,_ citing the importance of true names in its time, though Klug’s pretty sure it’s just forgotten whatever it used to be called. He can’t just...get rid of it, and if Lemres had not wanted him to have it anymore, he would’ve thrown it away while Klug was unconscious instead of taking it back to his house for him. Why? Is Lemres testing him? Seeing if he can handle it?

Well...of _course_ he can handle it. He’d just rather handle it when he isn’t so exhausted--maybe he _does_ still need time to recover, if even that conversation had worn him out so much. He polishes off the cookie and lies back without bothering to put the container away on his desk, staring at the ceiling. It’s afternoon now. Maybe he can sleep until night falls. He still has a nice view of the stars outside his window. 

Maybe once he can focus on those, he'll stop worrying about everything else.


	2. Blue is a Soothing Color

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sig’s a boy of many mysteries, but Klug’s sleep schedule is too messed up for him to care about solving this one in particular, at least for today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Favorite Ship - Sig/Klug
> 
> No, I didn't do Day 2. I might swing around and do it later, but I just have so many headcanons and I'm still a little lost on what to pick/do. I did post the start of [another fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25718842/chapters/62449075) that's basically nothing BUT headcanon if that's what you're into
> 
> Honestly, this one was hard for me because I love so many of the _friend_ ships. I was originally going to do Suzuran ARS trio as a friendship, but an idea didn't appear in time and I can't write Risukuma (though Ringo and Maguro will appear later). But yes, extremely vanilla ship, I know. I wasn't even into it myself until I started writing it with a friend, and we decided we liked a couple of idiot opposite teenagers helping each other out and being stupid about it because neither of them understand how feelings work in entirely different ways.
> 
> I am cheating a bit in that this was written about a month ago, but I probably wouldn't have posted it otherwise because I don't really do ship stuff. I did circulate this in a server with some friends, though, and my ship partner [drew some cute art](https://aegiis.tumblr.com/post/622232025272877056/chilling) based on it and [wrote some fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24940606) where it was referenced.

Sig is a boy with a lot of mysteries, even beyond the obvious. And Klug has made it his goal to puzzle out the answers to all of them.

The current subject of Klug's interest has nothing to do with Sig's odd physical features. Rather, it's his aura that's caught Klug's attention. Not the demonic one, as Klug's almost as sick of dealing with that as he imagines Sig himself is. No, Sig seems to have a strange...pacifying effect on those around him, Klug included. Klug's initial hypothesis had been that there was magic involved; some sort of enchanting aura Sig exuded that clouded the mind, or a hypnotic charm laced in with his words. But Klug likes to think he's sensitive enough to notice that sort of thing, and besides, the more he gets to know Sig, the more certain he is that Sig wouldn't dabble in such things--in fact, Sig probably couldn't care less. 

But the facts remain, as does the problem itself.

It's midday, with warm sunlight and a slight breeze filtering in through the open window. The two of them are sitting on the cushions Sig's placed on his windowsill, and Sig himself has his claw extended outward, almost eerily still. An insect has decided to perch there that Sig identifies as a damselfly (Klug himself thinks it looks like a dragonfly, but Sig is adamant about the distinction), and Sig has, of course, gone off on sharing information about its usual habitats and migration cycles. His voice maintains its monotonous quality, but with a slight upturn in enthusiasm that's only really noticeable if you listen closely, and a slight smile in his eyes and the corner of his lips.

Klug's been trying to get better at _listening_ \--not just sitting there uncomfortably waiting for a chance to prove that he has knowledge on the subject as well, or looking for a way to leave, or thinking about something else "more important" and blocking Sig out. It's been a bit of a process, especially in regard to the first bit, but as he slowly improves at it, he finds Sig's ramblings to be far less grating than they'd been when the two had met. In fact, the more he listens, the more it becomes exactly the opposite. Sig's voice is calm and pleasant, especially when he's talking about things that make him happy, and he can go on for quite some time if he's "excited" about something. His tone always stays even, rarely rising or falling more than a little bit. It's trustworthy, reliable, softly rolling like the surface of the calm ocean reflected in his good eye, cool like moonlight. 

It's been starting to have an odd effect on Klug.

Maybe it's the fact that his sleep schedule has been out of whack since classes had resumed, but...he has a lot of homework, and still has to stay ahead of the class, ever an ambitious mess of neuroses and sharp edges like paper cuts. He doesn't think anyone can (or _should)_ particularly _blame_ him for staying up late, and Sig's least likely to do so out of anyone Klug knows. But when Sig talks like this, Klug starts to find it harder and harder to focus on what he's saying, until he realizes the words have lost their meaning entirely and he tries to snap himself back to attention. It's terribly rude, falling asleep on somebody telling him about their passions, and he's trying his best to be...well, at least _less_ rude. 

But the sunlight is warm and he's sitting on a soft cushion and Sig is still talking and exuding this...this aura of peace that Klug's been fruitlessly trying to puzzle out the source of. Sig's gentle features and his ever-so-careful hold on the damselfly and the fact that Klug's finally...allowed himself to be comfortable just _listening._

...When had he started staring at the cushion? Klug raises his head abruptly, realizing that Sig's stopped talking, and reaches up to fumble with his glasses. Drat, he must've started looking like he was nodding off. Sig just looks at him, not accusingly, but clearly waiting for him to say something.

Klug clears his throat a couple of times. "My apologies, Sig. You're hardly boring me."

Sig tilts his head slightly, searching his face. "Did you sleep?"

"Of course I slept."

"Enough?"

"...Probably."

Sig's eyelids lower in a doubtful look. He turns to take one last glance at the damselfly before he lifts his claw, encouraging the insect to fly off to wherever it had been heading before it had decided to investigate. Sig shifts his position so he's sitting with his back to the window and pats the windowsill next to him. Klug awkwardly scoots a bit closer, frowning in puzzlement.

Sig suddenly raises his claw to rest on Klug's back, and Klug lets out a little squeak of surprise as Sig starts to push him downward with a powerful but carefully-controlled strength. He only lets off the pressure when Klug's in a horizontal position, head resting on one of Sig's knees, and Sig drapes the warm claw around Klug's side.

"You're tired," Sig says, matter-of-factly.

"S-so what if I am?" Klug's ears have gone pink.

"Take a nap. It's okay."

Klug's lips press together into a thin line, and he wants to protest, but--the weight around him is warm and pleasant. He probably shouldn't be taking advice on his sleep schedule from somebody who consistently nods off in class with his eyes open, but...Sig's right, he is tired.

"...What _do_ you know about dragonflies, then?"

Klug can't see Sig's face light up from his position, but he can hear the fondness in his voice as he starts right back up again. Klug closes his eyes, and listens until the steady stream of words turns into nonsense again, but this time he doesn't try to shake himself awake.

Maybe it's magical, maybe it's something else entirely. Klug still wants a solution to this puzzle, but...that can wait for another day. Whatever aura Sig has about him, Klug decides to just enjoy it for now.


End file.
